


The Opposite of Temptation

by Libbyfay



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale is Not Oblivious (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Next Steps, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Realization, Resisting temptation, Strengthening the Relationship, Supportive Aziraphale (Good Omens), Telling the truth, Temptation, Triggers, setting the record straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 18:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libbyfay/pseuds/Libbyfay
Summary: “Can I tempt you to break into a bottle of that Châteauneuf-du-Pape?” Crowley glanced over, from where he lay sprawled on the couch, and wondered how quickly his angel would give in this time.Aziraphale looked Crowley dead in the eyes and shook his head. He answered, in an unexpectedly firm voice, “No.”-Aziraphale has something important to say.  He's been thinking about it.  He's worked up the courage for it.  Unfortunately, Crowley isn't going to want to hear this.





	The Opposite of Temptation

“Can I tempt you to break into a bottle of that Châteauneuf-du-Pape?” Crowley glanced over, from where he lay sprawled on the couch, and wondered how quickly his angel would give in this time. 

Aziraphale looked Crowley dead in the eyes and shook his head. He answered, in an unexpectedly firm voice, “No.”

Crowley recoiled a little, looking incredulous, but then decided, suddenly, to drop it. “Ok. It’s your special stash, after all.” There was no reason to start a fight, not when everything was going so well, lately.

The supposed end-of-things had turned out to be the best thing ever to happen to Crowley. What had felt like mounting tragedy had suddenly turned, at the last moment, into a generous helping of everything he’d ever wanted. Well, almost everything. 

They hadn’t spent this much time with each other since they were both living on the Dowling estate. But the last several months were a considerable improvement, in that he wasn’t expected to wear panty hose. 

Also, no one was watching. They shared at least one meal together every day, and no one was watching them, then. They took long walks, talked about nothing. Humans couldn’t seem to care less if they walked arm in arm, and Heaven and Hell seemed to turn a blind eye as well. At the end of every outing, Aziraphale invited Crowley in for a drink, and no one was watching them get drunk. They felt safe and secluded in the bookshop, no one watching, no one listening to them reminisce over centuries of morally-questionable antics. 

Aziraphale must have felt the difference too, because he had changed a little, in a way that was difficult to describe. He was much freer in his conversation, for one thing. He was quicker to laugh, quicker to admit when Crowley had a good idea. He looked at Crowley more directly, somehow. There were fewer side-long glances and furtive, over-the-shoulder glimpses at Crowley’s fashion choices. Recently, the angel just looked him right in the eye and _talked to him._ And all of the things Aziraphale said, sounded like… well, like Aziraphale. Not like some convoluted mixture of him, his anxiety and the party-line. 

Crowley couldn’t have explained the difference, but he also couldn’t believe his luck. He didn’t question it. He’d learned that lesson long ago.

Recently, Aziraphale had been much more amenable to opening up another bottle and keeping the evening going. But tonight, he’d said “no”. Crowley wasn’t about to question that either. He just pulled out his mobile and started fiddling with it.

Aziraphale drew a breath, as if to speak, and followed that up with nothing. Instead, he proceeded to flip the pages of his book, loudly. Not the proper way to treat a book at all, so Crowley could tell that the angel was gearing himself up for something. Hopefully, whatever Aziraphale wanted to say this time had originated from _his own head_ and not from Heaven.

It was some time before Aziraphale took another long breath and finally spoke. “Did you ever notice that everything we do together is done in that context?”

Crowley considered this, “Nope. Not following.”

“The pretext of _you _tempting _me_.”

Crowley sat up straighter in his seat and put his phone back down on the coffee table. “Well, that’s who I am. Surely you’re not going to get on my case about my ‘nature’ again?”

Aziraphale gave him a tiny smile. “Surely not! I can handle your ‘nature’. No, this is something else.” He laid his book next to Crowley’s phone. “Haven’t you noticed that we never say, ‘I choose’? We always say, ‘you tempt’.”

“Needing to self-actualize a bit, angel?” Crowley teased. “Hey, I’ll be the first to say it: You’re your own man…being… whatever. You certainly have free will, ok? It’s just that…” Crowley trailed off.

“What?”

“Well, so did Eve!” He arched his eyebrows, trying to look and sound diabolical, but once again, it just came off as adorable.

Aziraphale sighed indulgently, “Ok. You get credit for that one, dear. You will always be admired and respected for that one.”

“Don’t forget feared!”

“Whatever you say.” The angel gathered his thoughts and forged ahead. “But do you really want that kind of credit for our whole… relationship?”

“I’ll take it.” Crowley grinned, “I really _am _that good!”

“But is that what you _want_? Darling, is that for the best? The Arrangement was-“

Crowley broke in, intent on cutting through Aziraphale’s regretful tone. “The Arrangement was one of the very best ideas I’ve ever had! You don’t get to take that. I put my one and only skill set to work on that. It was my Sistine-fucking-Chapel. Crafted that temptation doggedly for centuries, and it worked out, didn’t it? One of the few things I’ve done that worked out _even better_ than I’d planned. And here we are!” He gestured grandly around the book shop, the comfy couch, the world that hadn’t ended, and the two of them together.

“Here we are.” Aziraphale agreed, gently. “It’s a real point of pride for you isn’t it?” Mixed with the usual affection, there was something like pity in his face.

“Yeah. It is. I tempted the shit out of you, angel. You just don’t want to admit it. I tempted you more than…” He tried to think of an important historical figure he could take responsibility for, and failed. “More than the rest of the humans combined.”

“That’s only because you weren’t property dedicated to your job.” Aziraphale chided, primly.

“Hated it! You know that. That’s why I quit. Well, so to speak. So that I could spend more time pursuing my hobbies!” He looked pointedly at Aziraphale, who blushed and found he couldn't suppress a shy grin.

Aziraphale realized that he wasn’t the least bit offended by being Crowley’s "hobby". He was actually pleased to have been a bright spot in the demon’s all-too-empty and frustrating existence. And now, Crowley planned to make “tempting Aziraphale” the focus of his retirement, too. Maybe that meant his demon wouldn’t soon get bored hanging around a fussy, anxious bookworm like himself. What a nice arrangement they had, yet again. Aziraphale took a moment to acknowledge how happy they both were. Things were comfortable the way they currently stood. He allowed himself to wonder, why on earth he’d go and throw a wrench into it like this. 

_Because_, said a little voice inside him, _this isn’t all. There’s more. Crowley just doesn’t see it yet. Growth is hard. Birth is hard. Be brave. Like you’re walking into hell for him._

Aziraphale knew this wasn’t going to be easy for either of them, and he considered summoning up the Châteauneuf-du-Pape anyway, just to take the edge off. But he couldn’t risk losing his train of thought. He sighed, resignedly. “So, what else have you tempted me into?” he asked. “Saving the world?”

“Second best idea ever!” Crowley said vehemently.

“Another serving of dessert?”

“So many times!”

“Dancing?”

“One time.” Now that was an awkward memory, but moving on.

“Feeding the ducks?”

“Obviously.”

“Opening a bookshop?”

“Good one!”

“Letting you into my bookshop?”

“I guess...” Crowley suddenly wasn’t sure where this was going, and he didn’t want to be sent home.

“Letting you lounge around here and drink and philosophize every night of the week? Tempted me into that, did you?”

Crowley was floundering now, in deeper water than he’d expected. He’d been treading bravely, but he could sense much bigger waves approaching. “So, what? Are you saying you want me to leave?”

“No! I want you to stay.” Aziraphale said, exasperated. “I…” he pressed one hand to his chest, “Want YOU to stay. We’ve relied too much on you being the tempter. It’s a shield. For cowards!” He spat the word out. “I’m a coward, Crowley! Think about it. What could I say if they found us out? Oh, I’d say, it’s him!” The angel pointed accusingly at his friend. “He tempted me! He made me do it!”

Crowley understood this perfectly. Plausible deniability had been their reality for 6,000 years. And every step of the way, he’d made sure that Aziraphale would always be able to use that exact excuse to get himself out of trouble when the time came. The angel had always had so much more to lose. 

But, at the same time, Crowley knew it had protected them both, “I guess it would have worked for me too. Hell’d ask: What, in Satan’s name, are you doing dancing with an angel? Simple, I’d say, I’m tempting him. Oh, well, carry on then!”

“See?” Aziraphale looked pleased, as if he’d proved his point.

“I see what you’re getting at,” Crowley conceded. “But it’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” the angel muttered.

Crowley suffered a miniature explosion. “Look! You never wanted to!” he shouted, throwing up his hands. “You were always a hard sell, _even_ when it was a patently good idea. Like saving the fucking world, for instance! Boy, did you ever make me work for it!”

“I know,” Aziraphale said sadly, as though he had come to terms with his sins but didn’t expect to be forgiven for them. “So, in this worldview of yours, I never really wanted to. Is that it? You always had to pry me out of my true inclination. Lay your sauce on real thick, and maybe I wouldn’t be able to resist. It might not be my true nature, but you didn’t care, did you? You always made the sale, won me over. Right?”

Crowley slouched on the sofa, frowned. It wasn’t a great thought, when you put it that way.

Aziraphale pulled out the big guns. “And sure, it might be fine to see the Arrangement that way: a one-sided sham that I might catch on to at any time. But dear… what does that make our friendship?”

It felt like his angel had just punched him in the stomach. Crowley doubled over protectively, as the wind went out of him. Then, he realized Aziraphale was staring, and he sprung off the sofa to cover his pain. He went around the far side of one of the bookshelves and tried to breathe. Breathing made the pain subside a little, but it also had the unfortunate side-effect of reconnecting his emotions. He was furious to feel tears coming to his eyes. Shit. He couldn’t wipe his eyes without taking his glasses off. He couldn’t take his glasses off, in case Aziraphale followed him.

Of course, Aziraphale followed him.

He didn’t seem surprised to find Crowley standing with his forehead pressed into the spines of the books. The little bastard didn’t even seem deterred in the slightest. “Why are we friends, Crowley?”

The demon made a sort of whimper, “For Christ’s sake, angel, why won’t you just let me open a damn bottle of wine? Why are we even doing this?”

The angel ignored him, and persevered. “Why do you think we’re friends? Why are we here, together, after the end of the world?”

“I don’t know.” Crowley mumbled, without looking up.

“See? That’s not ok! With me, I mean. I’m not ok with you not knowing.” Aziraphale touched Crowley’s elbow and tried to lead him back where they could sit together. 

He pulled is arm away, petulantly. “I mean, I _do_ know!” he sputtered. “Of course. I’m fine, angel. Leave off!”

“I know you’re fine,” he said without irony. Calmly, firmly, Aziraphale wrapped his fingers around Crowley’s boney wrist and pulled him back toward the sofa. Crowley couldn’t muster any real resistance. He never could.

They sat down on the sofa together. Crowley looked down at their knees. Super-tight black jeans were almost, but not quite, touching those cream-colored slacks, meticulously pressed. He could feel the tears coming back, pricking like a sneeze that couldn’t be suppressed. Hell, he was such a mess.

“You didn’t tempt me to the edge,” Aziraphale was saying. “I went to it willingly, danced on it, lied to myself about it, and then went right back. Every time.”

Crowley, grabbing at anything in that moment, decided to try for angry. “Lied to yourself? Lied to me, you mean! You didn’t want! You couldn’t! You’d never! Certainly not! Well… maybe, just this time. But not the next time, mind you, so don’t get any ideas! And then we’d start over, and you’d make me tempt you back.”

“I really was your Everest, wasn’t I?” Aziraphale said sadly, laying his hand on Crowley’s. “And you had to climb that mountain over and over and over… and over and over, as they say. I really am so sorry. In my defense though, the whole thing was so _disempowering_. I think I was trying to prove I still had free will, and that I hadn’t completely succumbed to your, your... everything.”

Crowley had never realized how it must have felt on the receiving end, to always be the target of such deliberate, focused temptation, for all centuries he’d been at it. “I – I never meant for you to feel…”

“Manipulated?” That stung. It sounded so dirty.

“That’s not fair! I just… I wanted…. But I’m a demon so it would always look like something else, something evil, even when I didn’t mean it.”

“We were rather set-up, weren’t we dear?” Aziraphale seemed to be questioning the divine plan again, wondering why they’d ever had to be on opposite sides in the first place. 

But Crowley’s confusion was still very personal. “You left!” He sniffled and tried to cover it with a sneer. “You walked away. So many times.” That did it; the flood gates opened. “And it’s like… maybe I’m not as good at it as I thought… after all.” Crowley’s face crumbled, his breath ragged. 

This did take Aziraphale by surprise. Were those sobs? “May I?” The angel reached up to touch the frames of Crowley’s dark glasses. The demon made a strangled little noise, and Aziraphale quickly withdrew and dropped his hand back into his lap. 

“S’fine.” Crowley managed, finally, and Aziraphale reached out again. He pulled the glasses off very slowly, revealing tear-full eyes that were more red than yellow. 

Aziraphale murmured, “Oh, you wily, slithery, sexy, tempter… look at the state of you!” He pulled out a hankie, dabbed at Crowley’s eyes. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to let go of all that, just a little bit. To get to the next step.” Then he pulled the demon into his arms. 

Crowley expected that hugging the angel would have been like being surrounded by heaven’s fluffy clouds again, or maybe like sparkly sunlight. It was neither. Aziraphale was steady, grounding, real. All that angelic grace and love, that Crowley had sometimes thought would electrocute him, were instead calming him and rooting him to the earth. The hug tied Crowley into his own corporeal body like nothing had before. 

It felt good, but the tears were still coming. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me,” Crowley mumbled into the angel’s shoulder.

“I do.” Aziraphale answered with quiet certainty. “You have to choose between two realities. Either you’re the greatest tempter of all time, wrapped an angel around your finger and had your way with him… Or you’re not, and you never were in control, never to blame at all.” Aziraphale released his hold and pulled back to look at him. “All those years, there was nothing you could have done to make it any easier. It was always going to hurt, and it was simply going to take as long as it was going to take.”

“Yeah. That’s it, I guess.” Crowley resigned himself to the fact that Aziraphale had this whole thing figured out before the conversation had even begun.

“It did take an unfortunately long time…” The angel said wistfully, as he ran a hand through Crowley’s hair. 

Was this really happening? First a hug, now touching his hair? Crowley knew better than to ask questions. He stayed very still.

Aziraphale brought his fingers lightly down the back Crowley’s neck, and away. “Does it help to know that part’s over?”

“It- it is?”

Aziraphale took both of Crowley’s hands and sandwiched them between his own. “It’s not up to you to keep it all working, anymore. No wiles needed. I simply won’t be leaving you, ever again. I’m making a choice. Crowley, _I choose you._”

These were words the demon never thought he’d hear, and the happiness burst into his chest with such force that it was almost a physical pain. “Oh,” he said. Then, “Ow.” He pulled their knotted hands up against his chest, to plug the hole he was sure was gaping there.

Then, his eyes darted to Aziraphale’s shoulders where the hopefully-still-white wings would have been. He looked at the floor toward Hell and at the ceiling toward Heaven, but nothing happened.

“No. I guess not.” Aziraphale answered. “Haven’t Fallen yet, so maybe I’m not going to.“ He smiled. “Still your angel, then.”

“My angel.” Crowley said a little gruffly and pulled Aziraphale into his arms. He ran his hands over Aziraphale’s back just to reassure himself that there was no pain, no burning or blackening. The angel sighed into his touch, and they both squeezed tighter. So far, the only physical gesture of intimacy they’d accessed was a simple hug. With nothing else yet available to them, it quickly became the tightest hug in all of human history. If they had been mortals, bones might have been broken.

“I…” Crowley whispered. “I’ve always...“

“I know. So have I.”

“Since when?”

“Since, always, I think. Since I was made.” And as Aziraphale said it, he knew it was true.

“You’re the rest of me. I need you. Put you. Right here.” Crowley knew he was babbling, but he didn’t care. “You stay, ok? Free will and everything.. but you stay. Right here.”

Aziraphale sniffled into Crowley’s shirt. 

“Oh no! Not you too! Wait, angel, don’t cry.” Crowley pushed back so he could see Aziraphale’s face and began frantically wiping a couple of tears away with his thumbs.

“You’re one to talk!” Aziraphale said with a weak little smile. 

“Oh, forget about me! I’m a fucked-up mess. But you! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…. I did it!” He seemed astonished at himself.

“You certainly did.” Crowley was radiating pride, and it was contagious.

“I didn’t think I’d be strong enough.” 

“You were so strong. I was completely intimidated!”

Aziraphale was beaming now. “I wasn’t sure I could make you understand.”

“I know how smart you are, so I kind of have to listen, even if I don’t want to. You made your point quite cleverly! And you’re right, of course, I really would prefer you to choose.”

“I never thought I was brave, but watch this.” Aziraphale took an excited breath and before he could doubt himself, said aloud, “I love you. I love you Anthony J. Crowley.”

Crowley stopped breathing. He knew it was his turn to say something back, but he just stared, terrified. Everything he’d ever dreamed about was being handed to him, and all he wanted to do was slither under a rock. He didn’t deserve this, and he certainly couldn’t reciprocate. He’d always known that Aziraphale’s love was perfect and selfless. He was a demon, a cynic, a snake, with nothing of any value to offer anyone. He suddenly wondered whether he could hide underneath the couch. No, that probably wouldn’t have worked, or helped. “Um. Yeah. See how you’re so much braver than me?”

“You try it.” Aziraphale prompted, pushing him playfully in the chest.

Crowley just shook his head. 

“It feels wonderful!" Then, Aziraphale decided not to force the issue. "But then again, if you’d rather not, it won’t change a thing. I suppose, you’ve never had to say it before. Won’t bother me in the slight-“

“IloveyouAziraphale.” Out came the sentence that was supposed to break everything. This was when they look at you and judge you to be unworthy; then they send you _down_. Send you away.

But Aziraphale was smiling, and put his hand on Crowley’s cheek. “How did that feel?”

“Terrifying.” Crowley was breathless. “Amazing, actually. Can I really say that now?”

“I think we can say that now.”

“We better make sure, just in case… I love you, angel.”

“I love you too!”

“I love you more than speeding and rock and roll. More than sleeping.”

“I love you more than Heaven. More than crepes!”

“Wow.” Crowley was grinning like a goofball, and he felt it was time to point out, “This is pretty silly.”

Aziraphale leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. With one finger, he traced the serpent tattoo by Crowley’s ear. It was the most wonderful feeling Crowley could ever remember having. The only thing that had ever come close had been sheltering under Aziraphale’s wing at the Beginning. But now, Crowley realized, that had only been because that first small gesture had contained within it a seed, a promise, of this. 

6,000 years later, the seed had just started to blossom. Maybe it would end up being a whole garden. Could there be more? He was a greedy demon. It was worth a try.

“Angel… I don’t know how to ask this…”

“Nothing could be harder than what we’ve said already.”

“Do you think sometimes I could… will you mind…?” 

“What, love?”

“It’s just that, I do really enjoy tempting you, occasionally.”

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale laughed. “Yes! Please. You must! That was my only fear about all this. I didn’t want it to change anything between us, really. Old habits die hard, and our little 'dance' is one of my favorite games in all the world.” Then, he shook a warning finger, “Just as long as we both understand that-“

Crowley waved his open hands in complete surrender, “Oh, we’re clear! We’re absolutely clear!” he assured Aziraphale, emphatically.

“Well, go on then, you old serpent.”

Crowley took a deep breath, or as deep as he could, given that there wasn’t much room for air in his chest cavity. With an effort, he smoothed away the dopey grin that had taken up residence.

When he felt a bit more centered, he rested one arm along the back of the sofa and leaned imperceptibly closer, holding Aziraphale’s eyes with his own. He waited. Although they had just been closer than this, only moments ago, the effect was immediate. Something about his posture, the gentle intensity, that familiar confidence, and suddenly, Aziraphale couldn’t stop the flush from rising to his cheeks. 

Crowley watched as the angel’s breath hitched, between parted lips. _Oh, he was done for! They both were._

“Angel, I’ve been thinking.”

“Never a good sign,” Aziraphale murmured.

“And I have a… proposition for you.”

“Well, that sounds… dubious.”

“Oh, it is.” Crowley’s voice dropped a tone lower, “It is.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, as heat pooled in his abdomen. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”

Crowley ran one finger down Aziraphale’s jaw line. “I think, when you consider it from all the angles… You’re going to approve.” He laid his thumb gently against the angel’s full, lower lip. “In fact, you’re going to wish it was your idea.”

Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled. “How do you know it wasn’t?”

Crowley swallowed hard. He wasn’t used to feeling temptation pushing back toward him, and it registered as an uncertain tremble, deep inside. That was new, but surprisingly exciting.

“Then… can I tempt you up to the bedroom, perhaps?

Aziraphale pretended to consider this, making a show of cocking his head to one side, weighing his options. Then, he kissed the tip of Crowley’s thumb, barely touching it with his tongue. “Yes. On consideration, I think you may.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this melodrama of mine! Communication and honesty are SEXY, especially once you dry the tears, pull it together and start laughing instead! I hope you agree. I always appreciate (and reply to) comments. I'd love to hear what you beautiful people think!
> 
> P.S. Upon reflection... I should probably explain that little comment about dancing being an awkward memory. It's a reference to another story I wrote about the Gavotte: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19966954


End file.
